24 June 2011


One of the many things I don't like about myself is my temper. Methinks I have a generous amount dragon blood running in my veins.


I get annoyed over the littlest things - people making me wait for more than ten minutes (thirty, if we're really good friends), being asked to repeat what I just said, dismissing the argument I raised without proper and valid rebuttal,  making me decide where to eat when I already said my choice and you rejected it, and other stuffs that some people can very easily brush off.

I don't like getting angry. Who does anyway? What I hate about it most is I have hard time leashing my anger back. I don't get violent or anything (some may object to this, I know) but I can't seem to stop my anger. When a simple sorry should suffice, my anger continues to consume me.

You know the feeling of feeling something that you're not supposed to feel but can't do anything about it? Frustrating. Anger, guilt and frustration are a crazy mix I tell you.

But what's a boy got to do?

Maturity, after all these years, is still elusive for me.


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